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As still at Memory's call your glories rise
71 And meaning phantasies salute my eyes ! Nor yet unfeeling fate my step bewrays, Though mers'd in toiling life's distracted maze, From your charm'd haunts estrang’d, far off to roam, Or lost to you to fix this favour'd home.
76 Fond with its scenes your ties of love unite, As swelling fair your boundaries strike my sight, And oft allure my willing feet to climb With unfatiguing toil their heights sublime : 80 One various rapturous hour those heights can gain, One changeful hour restores this calm domain, Mid whose bland shades the eye retraces o'er Each ample range my footsteps mark'd before, Or won by present charms, exulting roves
85 O'er fields of bliss and native pride of groves.
And sure no fields can boast a livelier green, No bowers can smile with gladness more serene, No spring-drest sod feed more refreshing airs, No rural powers be sooth'd with holier
prayers, 90 Than thine, lov'd seat !-Does here some inmate God With conscious radiance cheer his pleas'd abode ? Or does this potent calm that broods around, This thrilling awe that clothes the answering ground,
* Alludes to the Inscription on a bench near a stream in a sequestered part of the grounds-imitated from Gray's Odet written in the Album of the Chartreuse monastery :
“ Et hujus etiam est secreti Religio loci;
+ Oh Tu, severi religio loci,
Nativa nam certe fluenta
This burst of throbs that thro’ the bosom dart 96
*« Near the four-mile stone is Moreen (or Margaret's), a most « pleasing situation : it is within three miles of the sea, of which “ it has a grand view, also of the city and adjoining county for
many miles. This place is remarkable for having a desperate " battle fought in it some centuries ago by two of the neighbour
ing families, who on their revenge being satiated, mutually « agreed to erect a church in the valley where the engagement was " had, and from thence called the cross-church of Moreen.”
Wilson's Postchaise Companion, p. 391.
Why else, thou chosen greatly favour'd scene, Thy secret charm, thy changeless smile serene ? The cheering breath that woos thy conscious bowers, The nameless witcheries of thy blissful hours? 126 Why thus assign’d with partial guardian care Each envied gift thy bounds exclusive share? Whence the mild soil with living bounties stor’d, Or bosom'd fossil wealth its veins afford ?
130 Boons which for thee parental earth benign Rich pours, impregned by genial power divine, That brooding fond, her sluggish bosom warms And each dull particle with life informs, Spreads the gay bloom that wraps thy vivid plain, 135 And with proud honor clothes thy rural reign. Awe-struck even untaught hinds revering own The sacred wonders of its mystic throne, Whose high pre-eminence still smiles supreme, While, pressing fervent round, rich splendors stream, Swell with their willing pomp its ample state, 1+1 Nor mix their fortune with its favour'd fate. Even dungeon'd pleasure-ground of yon demesne Wakes but the throb of pardoning pity's pain, While hid from thee its motley fabricks rise, 145' And tedious boundary walls fatigue the eyes ; Harmful alone its gloom where, thwart those woods, Howth smiles rejoicing midst his pomp of floods, Thine only then, while winter's storm bereaves Yon mean ash branches of their envious leaves ; 150 Discourteous guard of that forbidding line Where just their acres with thy acres join. Yet why on cureless ills vain murmurings waste, Or plaining brood o'er wrongs of lordly taste;
Oh blest in yon horizon's various round,
153 Bless'd in that mountain's long retiring bound; Bless'd in the smile of Anville's woodclothed sweep, And forest crown of haughty Merion's steep, That o'er its subject regions towering, shields From city smoke and care thy sacred fields; 160 And through the seasons' ever-circling train, Hoar winter's frown and summer's roseate reign, Bless'd still supreme in each bright joy that knows The endearing transport of thy home repose; The proud exuberance of thy glowing lawn, 165 Its breezy swell, its cherish' shades withdrawn; Thy frequent streams that with perennial wave And lingering reverence the sooth'd meadows lave, In murmuring peace their genial progress take, Or smile expansive in their bosuming lake, 170 Around, above, whose lucid gladness spreads, And radiant glories o'er the landscape sheds ; Clothes thy mild woodwalk gloom or terrace gay With each lov'd colouring of the changeful day, With brighten'd splendor cheers the orient beam, Or breathes fresh magic o'er eve's parting gleam, 176 To each calm glade gives animation's mien, And wakes to glow and life the wondering scene; That sure to more than thee its joy displays, While holier inmates greet its jocund blaze: 180 Full sure, as borne on evening's fragrant breeze Joins the soft murmuring of the heaving seas, Such hymn as custom'd forms * erst chaunted clear, With heaven-lov'd spirits' mingling strains I hear, While at each sacred swell symphonious flows 185 The charm’d accordance of earth's pleas'd repose;
* Kilmacud, the Irish appellation “ The Church of the Friars."
the place generally, means
That as I hear, bids wake each great desire,
Blest seat! from thee diurnal drudge while borne,
205 Through all vicissitude of human coil, Each fever'd throb, each fiercer wish control, And fix thy empire o'er my willing soul; Dispel vain fears, all earth-born hope refine, And raise the mortal to a height divine.
Since such the fervors that thy peace invest, Such their sure influence o'er thy votary's breast, Bid thou me welcome still, glad seat of ease, And breathe thou still thy hallowed power to please !